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The first time ever I saw your face…
I knew our joy would fill the earth
and last until the end of time.
- Ewan MacColl
Ah, the words of the highly romantic song made popular by Roberta Flack strikes a chord deep in the heart of man— and woman. What is it about some faces that can change our very core? What is this love at first sight phenomena?
Surely it is not mere physical beauty. Thank heaven we do not all adore the same ‘look’. Though science says we are drawn to symmetry, this cannot explain what it is that lights our heart when first we set eyes on a special soul.
Perhaps once, or miraculously twice in a lifetime there is a person that turns our world upside down with that first glance. Rare at best, this phenomena does not happen to everyone, but when it does the beholder knows that no matter what he does, or fails to do, that precious face is the last thing he will think of this side of the grave. Time, distance, ethnicity—none matter. Once you see this person it is life-altering; you know it. Immediate magnetism, instantly cherished, there is no explaining why, but it is as true as any truth in this corporeal world.
Such a chance encounter turned this author’s life sails toward writing. Never could I have imagined the experience or the profound effect. Transcending physical love, this emotion of agape sets aside the lover’s personal needs and wants. The beloved comes to be the focus of much positive energy, hopes and prayers. The ego and its baser needs become less significant in favor of the happiness and fulfillment of the beloved.
If that is not love, what is?
For as they say, love is not a feeling, rather it is energy in motion (e-motion)–acts of kindness, concern more for the other, more than self.
The question I grapple with to this day is why? Romance novels are often the stuff of such chance, but when it happens in real life, it is does not or cannot always lead to a romance. So why the powerful connection? Those who believe in past lives may say it is a love from one of those reincarnations. If that is the case, what is the goal of fate dangling such an individual in front of our virtual nose with no hope or possibility of relationship in this life?
My novel, Soul In his Eyes, has garnered many such questions from readers. A select few have had such an experience and continue to ask themselves ‘why’, if they, like me, are not in the position to connect with that ‘soul mate’, for lack of better term.
Many believe that there is more than one such soul for each of us in this time and place and so it would make sense if we are living one of many lives. Even as neophyte souls, we have the stuff that can connect and is drawn to another.
So, dear readers, I ask you. Have you had such a life altering experience? Why do you think such an individual comes into our lives if we are unable to connect to them? Does it teach us patience? Restraint? The power of ‘what if’s'? selflessness?
Perhaps it is only for heaven to know.
“And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the endless skies, my love
To the dark and endless skies.”
Christine’s latest short story in the 55 Portobello series is available NOW for the amazingly inexpensive price of 99 cents – through Amazon.com
One e-copy given away to a lucky reader who leaves a comment on this blog entry!
When an American cabbie in London agrees to a romantic Valentine dinner, she never dreamed the evening would end with the wail of sirens and flashing lights. Seeing her date under suspicious circumstances, her blood runs cold. Just who is this Valentine Huntsman?
“Houndsman Convention?” She stared into his gold-flecked green eyes.
Man of few words? She would be too, arriving in an outfit like that. What part of English mid-winter dress in no way resembling California beachwear did he not understand?
As he slid onto the leather bench seat he pulled in air between clenched teeth. Resisting the urge to chuckle, she set the meter and put the cab in gear.
“Now this is a turnabout,” he said. “I look like you sound.”
Odd way of commenting on her being a Yank, but two points for creativity. Silence the best commentary, she kept her eyes on the road.
“I rather think you are tired of hearing that, ” he added.
She remained silent.
“I’ll take that for a yes.” The cab shifted and bumped. She looked in the rear view mirror. He was digging in his bag, pulling something out. Half a kilometer down the motorway, she snatched a glimpse of him bare-chested. Moments later he’d popped on an undershirt and jumper. Perhaps he wasn’t completely mad. Certainly not hard on the eyes. Damn if the odd ones weren’t always the hunks.
“I apologise for my previous assumptions.” He continued to contort. Good Lord. He was changing into trousers too? “You might well be an aspiring actress practicing your dialects. No…you’re one of a cabbie exchange scheme. Two of ours for one of yours.” He gazed in the rear view mirror, his eyes meeting hers.
“Sorry. Silence must be your CIA training.”
A small percussive chuckled escaped her. She gripped the wheel, digging fingernails into palms.
“Ah, so you are listening.” He settled into the seat and peered out the window.
She finally rewarded his persistence with reply. “Bad day, okay? And you are correct. The American comments and jokes do get old.” She checked him out in the mirror. A smile cracked his face, quickly extinguished.
“Well, I was rather enjoying the silent treatment, but now that I see you’ve forgiven me, I should like to ask. What sort of girl chooses to drive a cab in a megalopolis such as London?”
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